today i learned that memories you didn't even remember having can surface at lightning speed after a trigger you would never expect.
actually, i probably half-knew this already, but i relearned it tonight, at the very least.
it was the simplest thing. i was getting dinner ready, cutting up my tomatoes and rocking out to kris allen with the windows open and feeling good and content with life. and then, i pulled the ears of corn out of the fridge to shuck them and get them ready for the grill.
it was like getting hit with a memory mack truck. i'm not sure if it was the sight of the corn, with their soft white silks hanging out the tops, or the way the leaves felt, cool and rough in my hands, but i'm guessing it was the way they smelled. you know that fresh corn-on-the-cob smell you get when you first pick an ear up and you catch a whiff? it's a sweet, juicy smell with a little soil and fresh air mixed in. heaven. and all of a sudden, all i could think of was summer evenings spent barefoot on the back porch with my mom, shucking ear after ear of corn for dinner and throwing the husks into brown paper bags (back when it wasn't a sin to ask for paper at the grocery store). and of course, murphy's law sped up the iPod and put on kris allen's slow and sweet song, and my evening of happy contentment turned into one of mellow reflection.
i've had several moments since the wedding where i realize all over again that i'm married and i really am a grown up now and the whole childhood thing is over. but as time went on, they became few and far between, and up until tonight, i was quite glad to be a grown up, living in a house that i bought with a husband i adore and a dog who makes our house feel full, and thoughts and hopes of things to come. not that i'm not still glad to have all of those things.
but that corn.
for the 10 minutes it took me to get it shucked and ready to go, i was transported back to the back porch with my mom, learning how to be a cook and a mother, a wife and a woman. and a few tears pushed their way out as i listened to kris allen singing his goodbyes to a lost love as i realized that that is a time in my life that's not coming back. it was almost like saying my final goodbyes to a part of myself that i can't bring back. i can remember, i can try to recreate, but i can never truly bring back the back porch moments. it's a beautiful, bittersweet thing to know that it's a part of my past, because i've been blessed with an amazing present, and hope for the future, but it still makes me ache a little bit. and i have a feeling this won't be the last time i remember without expecting, the last time i cry, or the last time i realize all over again that i'm done being a kid, and my job now is to make new back porch memories with the family i've created.
it's good to remember.
bring on the corn.
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